


Ama me Fideliter

by Ancalime



Category: Uncharted
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancalime/pseuds/Ancalime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, 5 times Elena didn't think Nate would ever come back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ama me Fideliter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grab_bag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grab_bag/gifts).



_Ama me fideliter, Fidem meam toto,  
Decorde totaliter, Et ex mente tota,  
Sum presentialiter, Absens in remota  
    "Love me faithfully, See how I am faithful,  
    With all my heart and all my soul,  
    I am with you, even though I am far away."_

\---  
I. PANAMA  
\---

Nate wished Sully were there to fly the plane. It wasn't hard once you got in the air, but takeoff and landing, well, he was a little rusty.

He guessed he'd better get used to flying his own planes now. And doing all his own haggling and fast-talking. And watching his own back. And -- his train of thought was headed straight for Depressionville at top speed. Nate forced himself to stop picking at the scab of Sully's death.

 _Time for that later. New topic now._

"How did you find me, anyway?" He glanced over at the journalist sitting in the co-pilot's seat, who was doing some incomprehensible fiddling with her camera. She cast a cynical look over at him.

"Why do you think I had the company buy you that fancy-pants GPS unit? What goes up, must come down," she said, with a self-satisfied smirk and a gesture he guessed was supposed to represent satellite signals beaming back and forth.

"You tracked the GPS unit?" Nate shook his head. "Should have known you didn't trust me."

"Turns out I had good reason not to, Mister Ditch-Your-Sponsor-at-the-Dock!" She set her camera on her lap and crossed her arms, irritation clear in every line of her body.

"Yeah, all right." He looked away, muttering under his breath. "I had that punch coming."

"Yup. Which is exactly why you got it." Either Elena's hearing was good enough to hear him over the racket of the engines, or she could read lips. Neither would surprise him, he realized.

"I'm just glad it wasn't some slip-up Sully and I made. If we had a bunch of armchair fortune hunters following us and getting in the way of Roman's crew, this could be a lot worse."

"Oh, didn't I mention that I posted our flight plan and destination on the show's blog?" Elena sounded too sweetly innocent, but Nate couldn't stop his head from whipping back around.

"No. Please tell me you didn't."

"Of course I didn't! Come on, Nate, I'm not dumb. I want this scoop as much as you want the treasure." She frowned at him. "Give me a little credit, okay?"

He sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry."

A beat later it was his turn to frown. "So what _did_ you expect to happen that made you get a trackable GPS unit?"

"We weren't sure. Maybe you didn't really have anything on the coffin, and you were just going to steal the equipment and run. Maybe you _did_ have something on the coffin but you were going to steal the equipment and run. Maybe you were an axe murderer or a deranged fan who was going to lure me out to the middle of nowhere and murder me, and the studio would have a lead to turn over to the police."

"Really? An axe murderer?" Nate couldn't help but make a face, his tone droll, but then he cocked his head and blinked. "Wait -- you have deranged fans?"

"Thanks. Thanks for that." Nate winced.

"I didn't mean it like that--"

"I have breasts and I'm on TV. Of _course_ I have deranged fans," she continued with a shrug, steamrolling right over him. "Even Barbara Walters has deranged fans, and she's, like, eighty."

"...is this something I should be worried about?" Elena just _looked_ at him. "What?! Okay, okay, fine, we'll just assume none of your deranged fans are following you."

"That's another reason I don't post trip details to the show's blog. Believe me, I've been dealing with deranged fans for long enough to know better by now." Nate glanced over at her, one eyebrow quirked, then went back to watching the horizon.

Elena intrigued him. She was so much more... _normal_ than any part of _his_ life, and yet here she was, chasing after a potentially mythical, almost certainly long-lost treasure with a guy she hardly knew, talking about how she got used to her deranged fans.

And, despite being left at the dock in Panama by him and Sully, it seemed she didn't completely hate him. Which was, to be honest, a little bit of a surprise.

"So...how are you holding up?" Nate raised his eyebrows and looked over at her. "You and Sullivan seemed...close."

 _Understatement of the century._ Nate couldn't stop his expression from turning grim. "I'm holding up just fine until I can make that son-of-a-bitch Roman pay, that's for damn sure."

"That's the spirit." Elena raised a fist in solidarity. At least, Nate hoped it was in solidarity. "He seemed like an interesting kind of guy. Were you two good friends?"

"Yeah, you could say that. We went back a long way." Nate heard his voice come out tight and distant.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I just thought you might want to...talk about it." Elena fell silent, looking away from him out the cockpit windows to the clouds and ocean outside.

Some time later, he was entertaining himself with visions of beating Gabriel Roman to a bloody pulp when Elena whacked him lightly in the arm with her knuckles to get his attention.

"Hey, I see land. Is that it?" Nate straightened in his seat and peered at the horizon. Sure enough, there was a dark spot out there that didn't look like a stormcloud.

"That must be it. Our flight path doesn't cross over anything else that big this far out. Okay, get ready, we'll be there before you know it." He glanced over and saw her opening the camera back up. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"It'll be quick, I promise."

\---  
II. THE HIMALAYAS  
\---

Elena saw the plumes of smoke long before finding the first evidence of the crash. As soon as the oily clouds were discernible, her heart began to sink. Still, she clung to the irrational hope that she'd find Nate just...lounging on a heap of debris making out with Chloe, or maybe standing triumphant atop of a pile of Lazarevic's dead henchmen.

The thickness of the smoke and the way it obviously came from an extended stretch of the railroad tracks was...not encouraging. When she came around the last curve and finally began to see the true extent of the wreckage, Elena felt her breath hitch. She felt ice-cold in a way that had nothing to do with the snow and the frigid mountain air.

Train cars were still burning, but she didn't see any soldiers moving around. Flames flickered, scraps of fabric and hanging lights swung back and forth in the wind that whistled down the mountainside, but other than that it was almost...peaceful.

 _Sure_ , she thought. _Peaceful, other than the remains of at least a dozen train cars and God knows how many bodies._

She would have to search through all of the wreckage, she realized. Look every dead body in the face to make sure it wasn't Nate. And even if he hadn't died in the crash, he might have died after leaving the site and she would _never find him_ out here in the snow-covered landscape.

The thought almost made Elena hate him a little.

\---

Two hours later, every physical and metaphysical part of her numb, she was past any possibility of hate and just wanted to find Nate alive. All she'd found so far were the bodies of Lazarevic's soldiers and the remains of his supplies. There weren't as many cars as she remembered seeing go by in the trainyard, and no sign of an engine car, so she figured this part of the train had been separated and the rest continued on. It would surely be too much to ask for Lazarevic to have been killed in the crash.

Elena couldn't even be sure she'd found all the bodies scattered throughout the wreckage. Some of the cars were impossible to access or even see into because of the fires that still burned and the way the cars had twisted and piled up on each other. There were skid marks up to the edge of a cliff alongside the tracks, and sparking, wrenched metal where at least one car had gone over and plummeted down the mountainside.

 _Nate could be down there_ , a small part of her whispered. _He'd never have survived the fall, and even if he did you'd never be able to get down there to check._

She shoved the thought away and trudged through the snow, hands and feet numb, the air slicing into her lungs, acrid with smoke and fumes when it wasn't wickedly cold.

The next body she found was dead from a gunshot to the head, and hadn't stiffened as much as the others. It looked like he'd ducked out of cover at just the wrong time and fallen over in the snow. That body led her to others, scattered across a small area that was relatively clear of debris but still had some signs of a struggle despite the snow covering everything up. She found a smear of blood on a crate, with no body, and more bodies that looked like they'd died in a gunfight -- _after_ the crash.

Backtracking from the bodies led her to a couple of military trucks with engine blocks still warm. The picture started to come together for Elena -- someone, probably some of Lazarevic's remaining forces, had come back to the site of the crash, no doubt to make sure Nate was dead.

And now _they_ were dead. Which meant that either some unknown third party had also arrived on the scene and gotten into a gunfight with Lazarevic's men, or that Nate himself had survived the crash, fought them all off, then left. On foot, she guessed, from the lack of evidence of another truck.

"What would Nate do?" Her voice was the only human sound in the mountains. Elena turned around in a slow circle, taking in the train wreck, the mountain, the trucks, and the railroad that continued on, deeper into the Himalayas, toward Shambhala.

 _Of course._

\---  
III. BERLIN & CAIRO  
\---

One day Nate just...wasn't there when she returned to their hotel after a long interview and formal dinner with the German prime minister. At first she just assumed he'd gone out drinking with the somewhat shady friends that he seemed to have in every major city. She changed into pajamas and fell into bed, a little tipsy herself, and so it wasn't till the next morning that she took a good look around the hotel room and noticed what was different.

All Nate's stuff was gone.

He didn't have a lot, just some spare clothes, a few notebooks, and a few other knick-knacks, but all of it was missing. As was Nate himself.

Elena groped on the nightstand for her phone and called him. It went straight to voicemail.

"Nate, where are you? If you're out drinking, I don't mind, but all your stuff is gone." She hesitated, something sinking in her chest. "Just...let me know, all right?"

When she hung up, she saw she'd gotten a text message overnight.

 _Gone to Rome w/Sully. Following lead. Should be back in a couple weeks. -N_

Something seemed to be stuck in Elena's throat. She tried to swallow, to put down the phone and get dressed and go about her day, but minutes passed and she still sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone.

Eventually she called Nate again. It went straight to voicemail, again. He was probably on an airplane, she realized.

"Nate, I just got your message." She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ , but only voiceless air emerged. After a few seconds of silence the voicemail system hung up on her.

Elena got dressed and called him again ten minutes later. "Look, we could have _talked_ about this before you packed up your stuff and got on a plane. What are you doing in Rome? Can I help? Will it be dangerous? When are you coming back?"

Three days later, he still hadn't called.

Three weeks later, he still hadn't returned.

\---

He ran into her in Egypt two months later -- purely by accident, she guessed. She was in Cairo for a conference on Arab philanthropy and civic engagement, but she could only guess what kind of wild adventure Nate was there for.

She heard Chloe, first, her voice ringing out loud and angry from a small group of dark figures clustered together on a street corner. Elena was on her way to dinner with some other journalists covering the conference, but when she heard Chloe her steps slowed and she veered off course.

"Chloe Frazer?" Elena called out from a safe distance.

"Elena?" She saw Chloe's dark head turn, but the voice she heard was Nate's, and a violent jolt made her heart turn over in her chest.

"Nate?" He voice was much quieter, but now she could see his familiar silhouette standing next to Chloe.

"Good to see you again, Elena." Chloe waved off the rest of the crew, except for a large balding man standing at her shoulder, who peered at her with suspicion. Elena plastered a smile on her face.

"What are you doing here, Chloe? Nate?"

Chloe glanced over at Nate, then back to her. "We're, ah, well, the usual. Ancient tomb, undiscovered riches. Probably a little mortal peril along the way. Have you met Charlie Cutter?"

The big man stuck out his hand and Elena shook it automatically. "Nice to meet you."

Chloe kept looking between her and Nate, who stuck his thumbs in his pockets, hunching his shoulders, and nodded to Elena. "Got an assignment here?"

"I'm covering the conference at the hotel just down the road there." Elena tilted her head back the way she'd come. "Some of us newshounds are having dinner tonight."

Chloe opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Nate, we're good until tomorrow morning. You and Elena should catch up."

"What? I-- no, I don't think--" Elena's eyebrows drew together and she peered at him as he stammered. It took a moment before what she was seeing settled in: Nate's hands waving in the air, sun-darkened skin and the familiar chunky watch on its thick leather strap.

Nothing else. No metal glinted on his fingers. Elena shoved her left hand in her pocket and waved Chloe off. "No, that's fine, it'll really be good for me to do some networking with my colleagues. Excuse me."

She turned and continued on down the sidewalk, her left hand balled into a fist in her pocket.

\---  
IV. YEMEN I  
\---

Elena let Nate rest for about three hours, dozing off briefly herself, then made him drink some water and eat a chicken sandwich. He was feverish, salt crusted on all his clothes, and he had an array of fresh new scratches and bruises -- even just on the parts of him that weren't covered by clothing.

When she eased him back down on the couch, she tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Take this stuff off, I'll run it through the wash while you sleep."

Nate's expression was incredulous through his exhaustion. "Shut up and take your shirt off," she said, the corner of her lips curling upward despite her best intentions. "Do you _want_ to sneak onto a plane and run through the desert in gross salty clothing, or not?"

"Good point," he said, and tried to pull his shirt off. He got about halfway before he froze and she heard a noise of pain muffled in the cloth around his face.

"You really are useless without me, aren't you? C'mon, I'll help, that's it--" Elena kept her voice light, blinking away the tears that sprang up as she saw the visible extent of his injuries, knowing there were more that she just couldn't see. At least he'd made it back, which was more than she'd expected about 4 hours ago. She still felt raw inside.

Nate fell back against the couch with a groan, eyes closed. He looked wrung out; his face was pale under the tan and sunburns, dark hollows under his eyes, bruises and cuts all over his body.

"Pants too." Nate cracked an eye open at her and raised an eyebrow, flinching as it pulled at the scrape on his forehead.

"Sure you're not just trying take advantage of me? I'll have you know I'm a married man."

"About fifteen seconds ago would have been a really, _really_ great time to keep your mouth shut, Nate." Elena's smile was hollow as she crouched down to untie his shoes and yank them off. She heard him heave a sigh, and he stopped fumbling with his belt and fly to reach out and run his fingertips down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she heard him say. "I was just—"

"Yup. I get it. We've been over this already." She stripped off his socks with a grimace. They were still wet, as were his shoes. Everything would have to go in the dryer.

"You're gonna thank me for this later," she muttered. "Okay, now get those pants off. Come on."

She ended up pulling on the ends of his pant legs as he shuffled the waistband down; now that he was in safe hands Nate was almost comatose, and she prayed he'd be able to recover at least some small reserves of energy overnight.

Elena tossed the socks, shirt, and pants in the washer, hands checking the pockets automatically and setting the contents aside on the lip of the laundry sink next to the washer and dryer. When she re-entered the main room, she saw Nate completely unconscious, face-down on the sofa with one arm dangling over the side.

Moving as quietly as she could, she draped a light blanket over him and perched on the edge of the table near his head for a few minutes, stroking his hair. He was out like a light -- didn't move a muscle either when the blanket settled over him or when her fingers touched his head.

Despite that, Elena still kept an eye the washer, turning it off at the end of the cycle before it could sound its shrill beep. The shoes got a quick rinse in the laundry sink while she was waiting so they wouldn't muck up the clean clothes when she tossed everything in the dryer.

The dryer didn't have a buzzer, so she set it and went back to the couch. She checked her phone for messages before leaning back, tilting her head up to stare blankly at the ceiling. Nate's sudden reappearance had made her forget how much recent events had taken out of her -- the next thing she knew, her phone was rattling against the table as it vibrated, rousing her from a surprisingly deep sleep. Nate had moved up and rolled over until his head was once again pillowed on her thigh, one of her hands in his hair and one of his on her knee. She carefully eased herself out to grab the phone and silence the alarm. Her leg had fallen asleep under Nate's head and it tingled fiercely.

There was one new message, from her contact at the airport, giving her the estimated departure time of the supply plane. It was later than their original estimate, so he hadn't felt the need to call her, which was more considerate than he knew. Nate could keep sleeping for a few minutes, she decided, and started a pot of coffee.

Either her departure from the couch, the smell of coffee, or her attempts to be quiet in the kitchen must have woken Nate, because she heard the creak of floorboards a short time later as he got up. He staggered through the doorway, still in just his underwear, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. To her critical eye, he seemed at least a little improved from the state he'd been in when he arrived at her door, though she guessed about five days of rest and recuperation were in order for the injuries.

"Uh," he said, blinking, "Clothes?"

Elena bit her lip and smiled, pointing at the small laundry alcove at the other end of the kitchen. "Over there, in the dryer."

She remembered waking up to Nate like this, sleepy and muzzy-headed. He _could_ sleep light, and usually did, but sometimes his guard dropped, or he hit his limits, and then it was like waking a bear at the end of winter. Entire pots of coffee could be necessary.

"Shower?" Was the next half-awake query as Nate emerged clutching his shirt and pants. He'd dropped the socks and shoes in a corner of the kitchen.

"Make it quick." She pointed to the bathroom door. While he showered she scrambled a bowl of eggs and cut several slices of bread from a loaf she'd bought the day before. She was just lighting up the burner when Nate emerged, damp and clothed, and slightly more awake. He was eyeing her mug of coffee with clear envy.

"Here you go." Elena said, passing him another mug. "Sugar with a shot of coffee."

He took a sip, then a gulp, eyes closed. "You're a godsend, Elena Fisher. I don't deserve you."

She froze, staring blindly down at the skillet in her hand as the eggs sizzled.

"You're right, you don't," she said, around the lump in her throat. "But here I am anyway."

When the eggs were done she scooped them out onto two plates and passed one to Nate, adding small mountain of salt and pepper to her own. She slid the plate of bread toward him, snagging a slice for herself and starting to butter it from the small plastic tub she'd set out.

"Bread?"

Nate eyed her, his expression a war between rue and humor. "What's the answer that involves you not stabbing me with that butter knife?"

Elena set the knife down and held up her hands in placation. "Have some bread. What you should _really_ have is about a week of rest and no strenuous activity, but given the circumstances...eat the bread."

Nate laughed, one nearly-soundless huff, and took a slice of bread. They sat at the kitchen table in almost domestic silence, Elena checking through the emails on her Blackberry and mentally tallying up how many fires she was going to have to put out after this sudden leave of absence from her network. Nate ate like he'd never see food again, devouring his eggs and taking three slices of bread for every one she took.

When there was nothing edible left on the table and Elena had forced Nate to drink some more water, they headed out into the lightening city.

\---

Anger coursed fiery through her veins, insulating her from the fear lurking just below it. Elena ditched the Jeep in an alleyway and made her way back to her apartment as if she were just another citizen, even stopping at a corner grocery store to pick up some food and see if she was being tailed. Sweat cooled on her back and sent a chill down her spine, which she struggled to suppress.

She closed and locked the door with shaking hands but didn't move another step, sliding to the floor with her back pressed against the solid wood and metal of the door. Her hands came up to cover her eyes, and she shuddered with sobs, shoulders curled in and tears sliding hot down her cheeks.

"Godammit, Nate," she whispered.

\---  
V. YEMEN II  
\---

It wasn't that uncommon to see camels and horses on the outskirts of Aden, but they usually didn't come into the heart of the city. So when Elena heard hooves clattering on the stones outside her apartment she glanced up in mild curiosity, attention diverted away from the admittedly dry policy briefings she was forcing herself to read.

There were three horses. One bore a Bedouin rider, high-status from the look of him, and the others -- Elena was on her feet, chair clattering on its back behind her, without her notice. She reached the door just as Nate and Sully were dismounting, each tossing the reins to the Beduoin man as they made their farewells. The midday air swam in her vision as her eyes filled with tears -- dammit, why did Nate keep _doing_ this to her? -- and she blinked rapidly, ducking her head.

As soon as Nate was within arm's length she slugged him, hard, in the shoulder. He staggered back a step and grimaced.

"Ow!"

" _That_ was for leaving me at the airstrip. Now get inside and tell me what happened. Sully, good to see you in one piece."

Sully just laughed and followed Nate inside.

Up close she could see that Nate's skin was chapped and sunburned, his lips all cracked. He drank appreciatively from the ice-cold pitcher of water she put out, and she found herself almost dreading the story.

"We found Iram. It was amazing." Nate's voice was proud through his fatigue.

"Yeah, but Nate might've found it a little more amazing than me. He was seriously tripping his way through most of it." Sully smirked.

"What? Talbot again?" Elena found herself drawn into the story, fingers itching for a notepad even though she knew most of their stories couldn't ever be published. No doubt this one had its catch, as well.

"No." Nate made a face. "The water supply there was contaminated. I drank from it and I, I thought I saw Talbot shoot Sully. I-- went a little nuts for a bit."

Elena could imagine.

"Turns out Marlowe and Talbot were after some kind of hallucinogen that had been hidden away in a big old brass vessel in Iram's water supply." Sully angled a look over at Nate. It was the kind of look that spoke volumes. "Three goddamn shots with a flare gun and the whole goddamn place starts coming down around our ears."

"I didn't do it on purpose! I just had to keep Marlowe from getting her hands on that stuff!"

"You sure did a hell of a job of it, kid."

"And Marlowe and Talbot?" Elena braced herself against the table, tension starting to seep out of her now that -- miraculously -- Nate and Sully were both back and in one piece.

"Marlowe -- and the ring -- got trapped by quicksand, and then Talbot picked a knife fight with Nate at the edge of the giant sinkhole the city was turning into."

"Oh, so, no big deal then." Sully's description was bad enough. Elena hated to think how much he was leaving out.

"Well, he lost." Sully shrugged, giving her a crooked grin.

They told her about some of the wonders of Iram, Sully correcting Nate from time to time when his memories were apparently addled, until the topic of their profit came up. Sully pulled a few coins from one pocket with a smirk.

"Come to think of it," he said, rising to his feet and slapping more sand and dust out of his trousers, "I should unload this stuff. Market's pretty decent here, and we're gonna need money for the flight out anyway."

"I'll go with you--" Nate started, but Sully cut him off.

"Like hell you will. You're gonna stay right there and let Elena pour you another glass of water. I'll be back in a couple hours or so."

Nate leaned back in his chair, looking at anything but her, and Elena raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, spill. What happened?" She asked, once Sully had closed the door behind himself.

"I, uh," Nate looked at the table, the floor, the ceiling, in short at anything but her. "I sort of, um, blew up the plane in midair--"

"What?!"

"--and then spent two days wandering in the desert." Elena clapped her hands over her mouth as she stared at him. When he met her eyes she could see how upset she was, reflected back at herself. He hadn't wanted to tell her but knew it would come out eventually.

"It's okay. I'm here, see? I'm fine." He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her hand, thumb brushing over the smooth metal of her wedding band.

" _God_ , Nate." She clutched at his hand. "I don't want to lose you either, you idiot. Stop _doing_ this to me."

He didn't answer, just pulled her hand close and kissed her knuckles. "I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that." She looked down at their joined hands and slowly, deliberately, pulled away.

He stood up with her, watching her as she moved around him to the kitchen area, snagging his glass from the table on the way and filling it with filtered water from a pitcher in the fridge.

"Here." Nate took the glass from her hand and drained half of it in one long pull before setting it on the counter. His hand lifted, moving toward her, but then he hesitated, uncertainty clouding his expression. Elena stepped into his arms and hugged him, tucking her head under his chin and taking a deep breath. He smelled like horse sweat and human sweat, sand and blood and metal. He'd beaten the odds again.

Her arms tightened around him. "You know I wanted to be there with you. I would have done it on my own, if you'd-- if you hadn't made it back in time, but I'd have rather done it with you."

Elena felt lips at her hairline as he kissed her gently. "I know."

A moment later he shifted, tipping up her head up and kissing her, and despite his sorry state and her lingering anger at how he'd left her at the airstrip, she still wanted to drag him into the bedroom right then and there.

The problem was that while there was obviously nothing wrong with a husband and wife sleeping together, _she_ wasn’t about to let herself cave and sleep with Nate. If he didn't want to act like her husband, he sure as hell wasn't going to get the benefits, no matter how much she wanted him.

After a long moment she pushed him away, patting his chest. "You smell like horse," she said, and turned him around until he was pointed toward the bathroom door, then gave him a gentle shove.

"Sully probably won't be back for another couple hours," she said, offhand. "If you need me, I'll be in the bedroom."

Elena saw Nate look her way with a raised eyebrow and a grin, but about fifteen minutes later she wondered if she'd misread him. The water was still running in the shower, and it wasn't like Nate to dawdle, especially when--

"Shit!" A muffled exclamation, followed by a clatter and thump, interrupted her train of thought. She was opening the door of the shower before she even stopped to think, only to be greeted by the sight of Nate, naked under the running water, wincing and rubbing his elbow.

"Nate? You okay?" She let her eyes do a little wandering once it was clear he was all right. He was a mess of superficial injuries, and she would bet that just about every major muscle group was sore.

"I. Uh. Started to doze off and hit my elbow when I snapped out of it," he admitted, and she couldn't tell if all the redness in his skin was from sunburns or if he was also blushing as his voice indicated.

"Uh huh." Elena smiled and closed the door again, returning to her bed where she'd been reading a novel left here by the previous tenant. It was an old and dog-eared work by Ursula LeGuin, not really the sort of material she expected to find in an apartment in Aden.

Nate came in a few minutes later, a towel wrapped low around his hips which fell off as he crawled into bed with her. Setting the book aside, she wrapped her arms around him, kissing his collarbone.

"Now get some rest," she said quietly against his skin.

"What?!" Nate lifted his head to look down at her, injured.

"Nate, you fell asleep in the shower." Elena started to pull away, only to stop when Nate grabbed her wrist.

"Fine. Fine. Just...stick around, will you? Stay here." Nate looked up at her and for once, she couldn't really tell what was going through his mind. His expression was shuttered, but the fact that he'd reached out and asked her to stay...

"Okay," she agreed, settling back down on the bed. She set her phone to alarm in a couple of hours in case they both really fell asleep, then let him wrap an arm around her and pull her close, spooning with her like she was his teddy bear or something.

To her surprise, she did drift off to sleep. Even though they'd been apart longer than they'd really been _together_ by now, somewhere along the line she'd grown used to Nate's breath warm on her skin and his arm curled around her. She'd even gotten used to his occasional snores, and he'd stopped waking up when she shoved him to get him to stop snoring.

She had missed him. Not just this week when she thought he was dead. Ever since they'd met in Panama, and sailed off into the sunset in a boat laden with gold (of which her share was still mostly intact), and one day after a good two weeks of dates and hot sex, he'd just announced he had another job coming up and vanished from her life.

Elena had to admit, it pained her to see him in Cairo with Francis Drake's ring around his neck and no sign of the wedding band she'd put on his finger. She still wasn't sure if it was an improvement for him to have lost Drake's ring or not -- but the absence of his wedding ring still hurt.

\---

Sully had called her and told her to show up at the airport, ready to go on a vacation. Elena wasn't sure what he meant, but she guessed something of Nate had seeped into her, because (to be honest) she would do a great many things for Sully's sake.

It wasn't until she saw Nate coming toward her and heard the rough tone of his voice, saw the glint of metal on his finger and felt his arms pull her close, before she fully understood. Her heart turned over in her chest, sending a surge of emotion through her. Some part of her still ached and doubted -- how long would it last this time? -- but the rest of her was in a far tighter hug than the Yemeni authorities were going to approve of. And for now...it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide! This fic started off as just the Yemen part, but then I felt like the world's worst feminist ("WTF do you mean she just does his laundry and cries a lot?!") and expanded it.
> 
> Special thanks to my last-minute beta, muuchan!


End file.
